


Distractions

by lastoneleft



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blow Jobs, College AU, Face-Fucking, If it's a thing Kuroo has one, Is there such a thing as a kneepad kink?, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 10:04:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10384230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastoneleft/pseuds/lastoneleft
Summary: Bokuto looks a little too good in his kneepads.





	

He’s always distracting in one way or another. Kuroo has known this since their first year of high school. 4 years later, that hasn't changed. Bokuto just commands attention whether he means to or not.

Sometimes it's because he can rarely do anything quietly; humming as he studies or talking with his mouth full. Other times he's merely being hilarious without trying. On not so rare occasions, especially over the last couple of years with all the parties they end up at, his charm is magnetic, draws a crowd and makes him the life of the party.

Then there are times like this, where he's uncharacteristically quiet but for his mumbling as he looks for his practice clothes. Kuroo wants to believe it's because Bo being almost silent is so rare, but the reality of it is that he’s naked and still glistening from his shower.

“Ah! Kneepads!” Bokuto calls excitedly, plopping down on the edge of their bed. “Took me forever to find these,” he tells Kuroo with a grin.

Kuroo barely hears him. He's too infatuated with the droplet of water trailing down Bokuto’s broad chest. “Yeah, well,” he says after it runs it's course over his abs. “If you kept your volleyball stuff in the same place every day…”

Bokuto says something, undoubtedly about how he’ll give that a try on Monday, but he’s pulling one of those goddamn long ass kneepads on, fingers tugging it gracefully up his thigh and letting it snap against his tanned skin. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Yeah,” Kuroo says, hoping that was the answer he was looking for.

Bokuto nods, seemingly satisfied. He dons the other kneepad, distracted with perfectly lining up the tops just long enough for Kuroo to admire the way the black material hugs his thick thighs. Kuroo licks his lips. He wants that smooth spandex pressed against his ears, or better yet, wrapped around his neck.

Bokuto’s up again, rifling through drawers. After a few moments too long staring at the muscle of his back rippling and rolling, Kuroo thinks maybe he should get the rest of his clothes on. Maybe his shorts will hide the growing hard on in his boxers.

“Ugh, Kuroo, can you help me?” Bokuto asks.

Kuroo turns around. Bokuto is bent over, rummaging through his bag. The last time he asked for help like that- a spark shoots up Kuroo’s spine. He looks at the clock. They have to leave in 5 minutes, which means he can’t help Bokuto the way he wants. His cock swells in protest.

He has every intention of helping when he walks over to ask where Bokuto last saw his shorts, but Bo has such a nice ass, and the little arch of his lower back has him throbbing. Kuroo runs his fingers up Bokuto’s sides, feels the cords of muscle shift under his skin as he digs through the closet. “You gonna help or not?” 

Kuroo hums. “‘m trying. You aren't being fair.”

Bokuto turns his head, innocent confusion pinching his brow. “What do you…” Kuroo presses against him, grinds gently against his ass. “Oh.”

Kuroo brings their lips together. Bokuto hums into his mouth, presses back against Kuroo until he groans. Kuroo trails his hand up over Bokuto’s torso, pauses to thumb at his nipple. Bokuto breaks the kiss with a gasp. 

“Kuroo, I want- d’you think- can we?” The question tumbles from Bo’s mouth, and Kuroo finds it oddly endearing how sweet he sounds despite the way he ruts back against Kuroo’s arousal.

Kuroo doesn't answer fast enough. Bokuto pushes him closer to the bed, closer and closer until the backs of his legs hit the edge.

“Wait,” Kuroo says, while he can still think clearly. “We can't. I mean, we shouldn’t.” The disappointment on Bokuto’s face is almost too much for him. “We have to leave for practice in like, 2 minutes.”

Something wicked, dangerous, and  _ hot _ flashes in Bokuto’s eyes. “That’s plenty of time.” He palms Kuroo’s cock, looks down to hook his thumb in the hem of his boxers.

“Bo,” Kuroo breathes. He tips Bokuto’s chin back up to look at him. “We don’t have time. I shouldn't have-” Bokuto laps at his finger, pulls it into his mouth and sucks on it, scrapes his teeth against the pad. “Oh, shit.” Bokuto grins around the tip of Kuroo’s finger before twisting his tongue around it.  _ “Koutarou.” _

Bokuto releases his finger with an exaggerated pop. He slips both fingers into the waistband of Kuroo’s boxers and pulls him flush against him, grinding their cocks together. Kuroo’s head tips back and Bokuto nips at his neck.

Kuroo waits for something to happen,  _ anything _ to happen, but a moment passes and Bokuto’s body is no longer moulded to his. Kuroo blinks his eyes open and nearly chokes on the sight before him.

Bokuto is on his knees, leaning back on his haunches, in nothing but those fucking kneepads that have left him panting on the court more times than he can count. His cock is flushed, straining against his abs. Bokuto licks his lips and tugs on the bottom of Kuroo’s boxers. “Please, Tetsu?”

How the hell can he say no?

“Yeah, Bo,” Kuroo says lowly.

Kuroo slips his boxers down his thighs, expects Bokuto to pull them down the rest of the way. Bokuto ignores them, leans forward and licks along the underside of Kuroo’s shaft, curling his tongue against the tip knowing it’ll make his boyfriend shudder. Bokuto wraps his lips around the crown of Kuroo’s cock, tongues the slit until Kuroo threads his fingers through Bokuto’s hair.

Bokuto works him slowly, revelling in the gasps and the occasional breathy  _ fuck _ he earns. He grabs Kuroo’s thighs just to feel them tremble under each flick of his tongue, in time with Bokuto sucking Kuroo deep, right into the tight passage of his throat.

“Kou,” Kuroo gasps. “We don't-  _ fuck, _ we really don't have time for this.” Bokuto looks up at him, and shit, he’s beautiful. Wide, golden eyes, and red, shiny lips wrapped around his cock. “Feels good, Kou. Feels real good, it’s just taking too long and we’re already late.”

Bokuto sucks him hard and swallows him down, humming his disapproval about leaving. He flicks his eyes back up, and there’s both permission and a suggestion in that glance.  _ Fuck my mouth. _

“Shit, Koutarou.” Bokuto hums what Kuroo can only assume is supposed to be  _ please. _ “O-Okay. Just-” he sucks in a deep breath. “Just keep looking at me.”

“Mm.”

“God.” Kuroo tightens his grip on Bokuto’s hair. He pulls his hips back, shaking as Bokuto laves his tongue along his cock. Kuroo snaps his hips forward, gasping out something between a moan and a cry when he pushes back into the heat his lover’s throat.

Bokuto groans around his cock, his own arousal heavy, aching, and  _ pulsing _ between his legs. Kuroo fucks back into his mouth with drawn out praise. His nails rake against Bokuto’s scalp and the spiker writhes at the attention.

Kuroo’s thrusts come quicker, sloppier. They soon lack rhythm, moving only in time with the whimpers that rip from Kuroo’s throat. Bokuto could get off doing just this if they had the time, especially with Kuroo holding his gaze with pure, unadulterated need. 

Bokuto fists his hand around his cock, stroking himself in fast jerks, matching Kuroo’s unsteady pace. Kuroo grips Bokuto’s hair harder when he starts to shake underneath him.  _ “Fuck, Koutar-ooh- fuck.” _ Bokuto hums his pleasure around Kuroo, and Kuroo’s eyes screw shut as he comes.

With the first taste of Kuroo’s seed on his tongue, Bokuto finds his release. He messes his hand, his stomach, his chest as he drinks down all Kuroo has to offer. Bokuto only pulls back once he’s spent. He smiles up at Kuroo, appreciates his disheveled hair and sweat slick chest.

“Wow,” Kuroo hums.

Bokuto looks down at himself and chuckles. “Yeah.”

The one hand he still has on Kuroo’s thigh is shaky, and Bokuto laughs harder when he manages to slide it down to his calf.

“What is it?”

Bokuto nods to the small crescent imprints his nails left behind. “I think you’re gonna have to wear my kneepads to practice.”

Kuroo’s brows shoot up. “Practice, shit! Coach is gonna murder us.” He tugs Bokuto to his feet, pausing to make sure he's steady. “C’mon, let's get-” Bokuto kisses him.

He laughs. “Calm your tits, Tetsurou. We’re already late. Let's get properly cleaned then have some cereal.”

_ “Calm your tits, Tetsurou,” _ Kuroo mimics. “Really, Kou?”

Bokuto smirks. “Heh. Calm your  _ Titsurou.” _

Kuroo fights a smile but fails miserably. He settles for ushering Bokuto out of the room by gently smacking his ass. “God, just get in the bathroom! If we make it there before practice is half over, we might not have to do 100 diving receives.” 

Bokuto waves him off as he makes his way to their bathroom at a leisurely pace. Kuroo can't help but stare. He hopes his legs look half that good in those kneepads.


End file.
